


Game

by unalignedant



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unalignedant/pseuds/unalignedant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is drunk, lazy and horny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this](http://temptmetobelieve.tumblr.com/post/37041410691/gobrunetteniall-so-fucking-sensual-are-you) post on Tumblr about how these two should jerk each other off sometimes and then wrote, um, this. I don't have a beta right now so any mistakes are mine, I apologize. General disclaimers apply: I do not own these boys and none of this really happened. ~~Too bad.~~

Harry is drunk, lazy and horny. He figures this is probably a dangerous combination, but he doesn’t care. He’s warm and his limbs feel heavy. Heavy, but there’s a buzzing underneath his skin that he’s pretty sure he knows how to take care of.

“Niall,” he murmurs, shifting lazily against the headboard behind his back. “Play?”

Niall glances up from where he’s tucked under Harry’s arm, pressed warmly against Harry’s side.

“Hmm?” Niall mumbles absently.

Niall’s eyes track back to the television, his fingers working the game controller in his hands. His cheeks are pink on a good day, so the alcohol and the body heat they’ve been sharing have him downright flushed. Harry shifts again.

Harry leans down and presses his lips against Niall’s throat.

“Play?” Harry repeats, mouth against Niall’s skin, and grins when the flush spreads down Niall’s neck.

“Haz,” Niall huffs a quick laugh, pointedly not looking at Harry. “I’m. I’m already playing FIFA, yeah?”

Harry hums and darts his tongue out against Niall’s jaw and then licks, slowly, slipping his free hand under Niall’s jumper until his fingers touch skin. Niall draws in a sharp breath and looks down at him. Harry can practically see the calculations flitting about behind Niall’s eyes as Harry slowly trails his hand across Niall’s stomach to curl his fingers around Niall’s hip.

“Play?” Harry says again, raising an eyebrow. He rolls his hips slightly. Niall continues to stare at him, saying nothing. Harry half-lids his eyes, and barely blinks.

“Right, then,” Niall says slowly, after a pause. “But. You’ll owe me a game, yeah?”

Harry smirks triumphantly, quickly licking at the corner of Niall’s mouth & pushing his tongue inside when Niall opens his mouth slightly in surprise. It’s wet and warm and soft and Harry hums in appreciation before pulling back slightly.

“Thought this was the game?” He says wickedly against Niall’s mouth. Niall breathes a small laugh.

“Oy,” he says quietly. “That’s just awful.” He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, but Harry can see his pupils have already gone big and his breaths are coming shallower.

Harry kisses him again, slowly, and pushes him back further onto the bed. Niall’s eyes flutter shut and he sighs. Harry takes it as an invitation and moves his hips so he can slot their legs together, enjoying the pressure the contact puts on his dick. It feels good; kissing Niall feels good. All smooth and slippery and yielding. Agreeable, easy Niall, letting Harry do what he wants and responding accordingly, which Harry likes. Harry likes it a lot.

Harry’s so lazy, so comfortably turned on, he thinks he can keep licking at Niall’s mouth and tracing small patterns in the soft skin of Niall’s side for the rest of the night until he falls asleep, with Niall warm beside him, but Niall’s kisses become a bit more desperate and when he starts squirming under Harry’s fingers and against Harry’s hips, the easy high Harry had starts sending blood south rapidly.

“Mmm,” Niall mumbles softly. “Haz?”

“Yeah,” Harry drawls, mouthing along Niall’s jaw, arching his hips and earning a quick gasp from Niall when their crotches press together, their whole bodies flush against each other and heating up even more. Harry slides his hand under the waistband of Niall’s sweats and finds his dick, mostly hard, and squeezes. Niall twitches under him and makes a small, needy sound of relief.

“‘Kay,” Niall mutters, and Harry squeezes again, enjoying the way Niall is hardening, and also the way his own dick is straining against his jeans in response. “Me--me too, yeah?” Niall manages, reaching jerkily for Harry’s jeans.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, kissing him again. Niall hums into Harry’s mouth and then makes a noise of disappointment when Harry removes his hand, but smiles into the kiss when Harry makes short work of the button & zipper on his own jeans.

“Easy, now,” Niall says with a breathless laugh, squirming again when Harry quickly licks his own palm and puts his hand back in Niall’s sweats.

“Nope, sorry,” Harry says, grinning, shivering a bit when Niall manages to work his hand into Harry’s jeans. Niall’s fingers are short but quick, and Harry groans when Niall gives him a fast stroke. He squeezes Niall again in reaction and Niall arches against him, both of them inhaling sharply.

“We couldn’t be worse at this,” Niall rambles absently. “Terribly, ah, sloppy. Really.” Harry kisses him to shut him up, focusing on rocking his hips to feel more of Niall’s warm hand on his dick and the feeling of Niall’s dick hot in his own hand and the soft wetness of Niall’s mouth and even the small sounds coming from the back of Niall’s throat. Their kisses intensify and when Harry pulls back, Niall’s lips have gone red and swollen.They can’t manage a rhythm but keep touching, tugging, squeezing, breathing heavy and hot. The buzzing under Harry’s skin is threatening to take over but it still feels like forever before the familiar wave of heat starts building up in earnest.

“Haz,” Niall manages finally, gasping. “I’m--”

“Do it,” Harry growls, sucking roughly on Niall’s throat. Niall jerks and gasps again, almost in surprise, before coming with a shudder. Harry moves to watch Niall squeezing his eyes shut and panting harshly through the rest of his orgasm before Harry thrusts into Niall’s tightening hand and finally feels the buildup explode and comes himself, gasping and shoving his face into Niall’s heated neck. He breathes harshly through his nose, listening to the pounding of his heart and feeling Niall swallow heavily a few times. He lets his breathing slowly even out, feeling more comfortable and tired than he did before, but not any less warm. Niall is completely flushed red but sighs softly, sounding pleased. Harry finally extricates his hand from Niall’s pants and wipes it on the sheets behind him.

“Gross, mate,” Niall says, smiling, before doing the same with his hand.

“Shhh,” Harry replies petulantly. “‘m tired.” He nuzzles into Niall’s neck and Niall laughs.

“Well, I’m at least goin’ to clean up before the lads get back,” Niall says, and Harry makes a disgruntled noise but eventually follows when Niall slips off the bed and heads for the toilet.

Niall’s already in the shower so Harry shucks off his shirt and jeans and crowds in behind him, blinking as Niall wets his hair, shakes it out and water sprays everywhere.

“FIFA?” Niall asks, looking up at Harry through his wet fringe.

“Sure,” Harry says, shifting to let Niall around him and out of the shower, ruffling Niall’s hair affectionately before stepping under the water. Harry closes his eyes and puts his face directly into the spray, pushing the water up and through his hair. He hears the door in the other room open and slam shut and someone yell out, “Niall! Play me in FIFA this instant!”

Harry leans out of the shower to see Niall tugging on a new pair of sweats, grinning at Harry.

“Guess I’ll get you next time?” Niall says, and Harry instinctively grabs him by the arm as he starts to dash to the door, pulling Niall to him and pressing a kiss to his lips. Niall looks startled.

“Sure,” Harry says, purposely pitching his voice low and trying not to smile. “You know I like games.”

Niall rolls his eyes and laughs.

“Your material is pathetic, Styles,” he says before taking off into the next room, already hurling FIFA threats before he’s even out the door.

Harry steps back under the water, enjoying the warmth and soft buzz he still has and anticipating how lazy he’s going to be laying in bed in a few minutes. He also thinks that, clearly, his material can’t be all bad--he usually ends up a winner.


End file.
